The Gluskin Genesis
by RomulusxEatsxRemus
Summary: Before Mount Massive, before the arrests, there was just Edgar Thomas Gluskin. Follow his story from childhood to the day he arrives at Mount Massive. (Mature for future content: trigger warnings, abuse, gore, sexual content, etc.)


**This is my first fanfic posted! It will be a multi-chapter series (# of chapters TBD)**

**I'd like to thank Aly, aka .com for inspiring this.**

** I love her current fanfic listed here: s/10364912/1/My-Darling-Bride**

**Grandmother character inspired by her Eddie's Grandmother Abigail character. **

**Please feel free to let me know what you think!**

Also, feel free to follow me at .com

* * *

The sun shone through the tinted windows in aquamarines and yellows. Its hues casting onto the congregation. The pastor stood at the front by the pulpit, preaching to the mass.

"…And Jesus said unto them, Let he without sin cast the first stone. We are all guilty of sin. So how can we pass judgment upon others if we too are sinners?"

A joined "Amen" was murmured among the crowd as the preacher continued his sermon. A small group of children sat in the pew at the very back, fidgeting and whispering. Their behavior grabbed the attention of an older woman sitting in front of them. She looked back to them- more specifically a young boy who sat in the middle of the group. Her eyes narrowed and she whispered a quick "SHH!" The lad looked to her, startled, and settled deeper into his seat, looking down at his toes. Satisfied with his reaction, the woman reached up to check the green pill-box hat that sat atop her grey curls.

The boy, now having caught the attention of his peers, became rosy cheeked. He ran a small hand through his black hair, smoothing it back from his face. His bright, blue eyes quickly looked back and forth to the gaggle of youths sitting with him. The boys to his right were giggling quietly while the girls to his left were only slightly more solemn, giving him pinched-lipped looks. He didn't say a word the duration of the service. He knew better than that.

* * *

As the bells sounded, he stood and went to stand beside his grandmother, while she said her "hellos" and "bless yous" to her familiars. His hands dug into his pocket and he kept his eyes down. He didn't need her mad at him. Once finished, she put a hand on his shoulder, leading him outside of the church as they headed to her car- a rusty, brown '57 Chrysler. She opened the door to the passenger side and ushered him in without a word. After closing the squeaky door, she made for the driver's side.

She sat pensively for a moment before looking to the boy.

"Edgar Thomas Gluskin, what kind of shenanigans was that?" She looked at him with a furrowed brow, her painted-red lips pursed.

He looked at her nervously before responding, "N-nothing grandmother. I-I d-didn't say anything." He kept his head down, only peering up to her face when he finished speaking.

"I won't have my grandson behaving like a heathen in the house of the Lord, d'ya hear me?"

"Y-yes ma'am." He nodded meekly.

Pleased with his answer, her face lightened up and she shook her head as she started the car. She shifted gears and began driving, heading home. Edgar stared into his lap and didn't say another word the entire drive.

As they pulled into the gravel driveway of his grandmother's brick, ranch-style home, Edgar looked out the window. He inwardly sighed of relief. He waited until she had stopped the car and removed the keys from the ignition before unbuckling himself and opening the car door. He stepped out slowly and closed the door. A light breeze swept through and chilled him a little, raising small goosebumps on his arms. His grandmother went to the front door, opening it and he followed her inside. As she went straight for the kitchen, he took a moment to look around the sitting room- the honey brown, wood paneled walls, the old floral sofa and matching sitting chair, the family photos arranged just so around a large white painted, wooden cross. He went to her old, wooden rocking chair and took a seat, after kicking off his oxfords and laying them neatly by the front door on the orange rug. Edgar eyed her knitting basket and saw what looked to be half of a scarf there, the assorted balls of yarn laying neatly underneath. He laid back into the chair and let it rock naturally with his weight, taking in a deep breath and the aroma of old perfume and home cooked meals. This was his sanctuary.

Edgar's grandmother entered from the kitchen, looking over her young grandson. She smiled sweetly and called to him, "Eddie, darling, I need you to help clean up in the sewing room for me. I'm gonna get our supper started. How does chicken pot pie sound?"

He opened his eyes, a bit startled, and nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He smiled softly up at her as he walked past her to the hall and turned left into her sewing room. He ran a hand over the black Singer that sat against the wall. Spools of thread were left out on the desk, along with a pair of shears and a couple bits of fabric. He couldn't tell what kind it was, but he'd be sure to find out. Eddie picked up the spools, placing them into the cabinet on the adjacent wall, taking care to organize them by color- as grandmother liked them to be. He also then grabbed the fabric, running his fingers over them, taking in the textures as he folded those and placed those in another cabinet on the opposite wall. He wanted to know what his grandmother was making, but she rarely ever showed her unfinished pieces. He'd wait until she decided to let him in on her project.

Eddie walked out of the sewing room, closing the door quietly, and headed back down the hall to the kitchen. It was brightly lit with a large picture window behind the sink, giving a view to the backyard and his grandmother's prized victory garden. Unfortunately, with it being the start of September and the beginning of fall, her garden was mostly bare. He spied some pumpkin vines on the far side of the patch and made a note to go out to inspect them later. His grandmother was busy at the stove, cooking the chicken and vegetables for her pot pie. It was a favorite of his and he could ready smell the tell-tale scent of all her "secret" spices she used in it. On the wall by the telephone stand was a needlepoint hanging, framed in a dark brown wood frame, that read _'A Woman's Work Is Never Done'_ in blue thread. Two needle point daisies were also done on it, a cute touch.

"Eddie, darling, why don't you go and take a nap while I get this finished?" His grandmother broke his train of thought and he looked to her. Her own bright, blue eyes twinkled as she waited for his answer.

"Y-yes ma'am." He walked out of the kitchen and back down the hall to the spare bedroom across from the sewing room. A wood board creaked beneath him and made him jump- it did every time. He quickly opened the door to a bare room, just a four-post bed with a hand made quilt and a four-drawer dresser. He tugged off his sport jacket and laid it neatly on the post of the bed and slid under the blanket, letting the sounds of his grandmother singing and cooking lull him to sleep.

It was perhaps a few hours later that Eddie was pulled from his dream-less sleep by his grandmother calling him to dinner. He yawned and climbed out of the bed, adjusting his button-up shirt and smoothing his hair back once more. He fixed the quilt so that it looked untouched and then headed to the kitchen.

"Set the table, Eddie, darling."

He nodded and set the table, laying out the place mats, plates, silverware and plastic tumblers for their lemonade. He even went and pulled the pitcher of it out of the icebox, setting it gingerly on the table. He was only so relieved it was half-empty already or he would have spilled it for sure. After ensuring the table looked perfect for grandmother's inspection, he took his seat and waited as she served his slice of chicken pot pie. The smell was heavenly and he salivated a bit as he eyed his plate. However, he waited for his grandmother, as she insisted on saying "Grace" before eating every meal. She took her seat and (as expected) reached for Eddie's hands, clasping them softly in hers as she bowed her head, and he bowed his.

"Heavenly Father, I'd like to thank you for this nourishment we're receiving and for the wonderful service at church today. Your message was clear as always. Please watch over us and protect us as you do everyday. In your name we pray, amen."

She opened her eyes and looked at Eddie expectantly. He'd almost forgot.

"A-amen." He stuttered, his cheeks blushing.

They dug into their plates, eating the meal. Eddie asked for seconds, gobbling them as quickly as he did the first. After finishing his second plate, he stood and took his dirty dishes to the sink. His grandmother handed hers to him and went to her rocking chair, the familiar creak starting moments later. She'd picked up her half-finished scarf.

Eddie washed the dirty dishes for his grandmother, drying them, and placing them back in the cabinets. She hated to leave anything in her sink. When he'd placed the last dish away, he entered the sitting room. His grandmother was indeed knitting the scarf and looked up at him.

"Go on and wash up so you can go to bed. Your momma will be here first thing in the morning to get you."

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end when she finished speaking. He knew what that meant. He looked down at his feet.

"Y-yes, ma'am."

He went to the washroom and took his shower. He stood in the water, letting it beat down on him as sank into deep thought. It was always like this. It felt like forever that he stood there, only coming back when the water started feeling cold on him. He climbed out and toweled himself off, putting on the pajamas his grandmother must have dropped off while he was washing. Once dressed, he brushed his hair back and went to the spare bedroom, once again sliding into the comfort of the quilt and nestled into the pillow. It didn't take long for him to fall back into his dream-less sleep.


End file.
